


Attention to Detail

by justanotherjen



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Amusement Parks, Angst, Drama, Drinking Games, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Major Character Injury, Male Friendship, Not Canon Compliant, Team as Family, Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-17
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-06-11 19:48:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15322971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justanotherjen/pseuds/justanotherjen
Summary: After their last Eleventh Hour Hail Mary mission, Grif had plopped down right among the dying enemy soldiers and said he wasn’t moving until he got some leave. He wouldn’t even budge for Sarge’s shotgun.“We’ve saved the galaxy enough times. I think we deserve a vacation.”No one could come up with a logical rebuttal for that so they headed to the nearest resort planet.OREpsilon and the gang take a vacation, and it goes about as well as you'd expect.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Consider any discrepancies from canon as artistic license. This started as some humorous team antics and ended up somewhere angsty and slightly dark. Mostly it's Church looking out for Caboose

“Blackwater is a neutral planet,” Simmons read from an advertisement as they skimmed over a midnight ocean, heading to the biggest space dock on the southern continent—a tourist hot-spot apparently. He continued to read off a long list of rules and regulations for visiting Blackwater while Church and Caboose watched their clunky approach out a side window.

“Why do you think they call it Blackwater?” Caboose asked, thoughtfully. “Do you think it’s because the water is black? Or do you think the water is black because the planet is called Blackwater?”

“That doesn’t even make sense, dumbass,” Tucker said from Caboose’s other side. “Why would the water change color to black just because the name of the planet has ‘black’ in it?”

Church reached around behind Caboose and smacked Tucker upside the head. 

“According to the brochure,” said Wash, strolling over to join them (or maybe just trying to be closer to the emergency exit as they neared the dock), “the water on this planet appears black on the surface because of a mineral in the soil.”

Caboose mulled this over for a moment. “Neat.”

They bumped and bobbled along as Grif struggled to maintain altitude and pitch on his first landing approach. It usually took two or three tries if they didn’t want to crash and burn on impact, but they glided in, only slamming slightly into the docking bay before easily coming to a stop on the first attempt.

“Ha!” Grif shouted from the cockpit. “Nailed it.”

“Let’s wait and see the paint job before you start celebrating,” Carolina said with a chuckle.

“Whatever. You’re just jealous that I fly better than you.”

“ATTENTION TRAVELERS.” The words scrolled over every screen automatically, repeating the warning from the brochure. “Blackwater is a neutral planet; therefore, armor and weaponry of any kind are prohibited by law and punishable by fines and/or imprisonment.” It really should have been their first warning that things weren’t going to go as plan. They rarely did, but this was a literal blinking-red warning.

“Wait a dag-gum-,” Sarge said. “What do they mean armor is prohibited?”

“It means we can’t wear our uniforms, sir,” answered Simmons.

“And by weapons, they mean?”

Simmons let out a tired sigh. “All weapons, sir. No knives or guns.”

“I see. And by prohibited, then mean?”

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Church blurted. “Let’s just go somewhere else before the old man has a stroke trying to understand the concept of weaponless.”

“No. No fucking way. We’re already here and my vacation starts in-” Grif stared at his watchless wrist. “-five, four, three, two.” He tore off his helmet with a sigh. “I am officially off the clock.”

Simmons scoffed at his teammate. “Was there ever a time you were officially on the clock?”

“You know what, Simmons,” Grif answered as he shed the rest of his armor. “I’m not even going to let that bother me. Know why? Because I’m on fucking vacation.”

The rest of them looked at each other before Tucker shrugged and began stripping his own armor. Carolina popped off her helmet, red bangs plastered to her forehead. The rest followed—some grumbling more than others.

“Um,” Church said as his friends dug through the storage lockers looking for civvies. “Have you guys forgotten something?”

“Like what?” Simmons asked, struggling to remove a shin guard.

Grif suddenly leaped three feet to the left with a girly squeal. “Like the fact that Donut doesn’t wear underwear?”

“Only when I’m not in my armor,” Donut said matter-of-factly while pulling on a pair of perfectly pressed slacks.

Church crossed his arms over his chest and glared. “No, that’s not it.”

“Did we forget to put the ship in park?” offered Tucker.

“No.”

“Forgot to turn off the headlights?” asked Doc.

“No.”

“The stove?” Donut added to the suggestions.

“The TV?” Sarge asked, scratching the gray scruff on his chin.

Church growled in frustration. “No and no.”

“Well, son, I can’t think of anything else we’ve-”

“Me!” Church exploded. “Me, me, me. Have you forgotten I don’t have a body? I’m a goddamn robot.”

“A gay robot,” added Caboose, cheerily.

Church growled. “I am not gay. I can’t go down there because I can’t take off my armor. I don’t have a body.”

“But-” said Caboose.

“My armor is my body,” Church clarified at his friend’s confused expression.

“Hmm,” Sarge said as he pulled on a pair of regulation fatigue pants. “I can see how that could pose a problem.”

Tucker pulled on a faded baseball jersey. “Can’t you just possess some schmuck on the street? Like a homeless guy or mime or something?”

Caboose started hopping up and down. “Yes, yes, be a mime. I love mimes.” He began pulling himself by an invisible rope.

“I’m not being a mime. And no, I can’t just possess some random person.”

“Why not?” asked Grif, now wearing an awful orange Hawaiian shirt and clashing Bermuda shorts. “You’ve done it before.”

Simmons nodded as he carefully laced his boots. “You possessed Sarge that one time, remember?”

“What?” Sarge said. “I have no recollection of that.”

“That’s because Caboose shot you in the head, sir,” Simmons explained.

“And I saved your life,” Grif added, proudly, getting a disgruntled huff from Sarge.

Church sighed. “That was different. One—that wasn’t even me, and two—it was a rescue mission.”

Donut smoothed the wrinkles from his pink polo then popped the collar with a flourish. “Well, what about that guy in the club on that planet when we-”

“That was different, too.”

“How?”

If Church had a face, it would be burning with frustrated rage right about now. “It just was, okay?”

“Oh, oh, Church.” Caboose waved his arm like a child trying to get the teacher’s attention.

“Yes, Caboose?” Church said with another sigh. He’d tried telling Caboose a million times that he didn’t have to raise his hand before speaking, but in the end, it was just easier to let him do his thing. He was less confused that way.

“Can’t you just go all glowy? Like when you were a ghost?”

“I wasn’t a ghost and no. I need power and a projector to be ‘glowy,’ and those come from the armor.”

“Oh,” Caboose said softly, the smile fading from his face.

“But that was a good suggestion, Caboose,” Church told him before he could slip into one of his funks. That seemed to work because he went back to trying to figure out the laces on his shoes.

“Well,” Tucker said, “the way I see it, you have two choices. You can either be a mime or just stay on the ship. Brooding. But, hey, at least you’ll have your morals to keep you company.”

Jerk. Church turned to Carolina leaning against the wall in an actual dress that made Church do a double-take then to Wash who finished helping Caboose tie his shoes and stood up. “You know, you two could like back me up or something here.”

Wash slipped into a leather jacket and shrugged. “I think Tucker makes a solid argument.”

“What?” What the hell was wrong with them? “I’m trying to do the right thing here. Carolina? You’re on my side, right?” He sounded way too desperate.

She stared at him a long moment with those familiar piercing, green eyes then smacked the control to open the hatch. “Have fun with your morals, Church.” 

Church watched in shock as his friends filed out one after another. “Come on guys. This isn’t funny. You can’t leave me here by myself. Doc!” He grabbed the passing medic’s arm. “You’re a pacifist—like all about human rights and shit? You agree with me.”

Doc nodded. “Of course.” He glanced out the door at the lively space dock and bustling city beyond. “But I hear the sweet song of margaritas calling my name. Sorry, Church.”

“Wait, what?” Church asked as they all disappear into the crowd. “Yeah, well- well, fuck you guys. I don’t need you. I’ll be fine on my own. I’ll, I’ll rack up a mile-long phone bill calling those horoscope numbers. And order fifty pizzas I can’t eat on Wash’s credit card. And, and, watch the entire Star Wars series. All seventy-two films! Yeah, who needs you guys?” His anger petered out. “Who needs friends anyway?”

He turned to go back into the ship but ran right into something solid. Caboose.

“Hello.”

“Caboose, why are you still here?”

“Well, if you can’t leave the ship then I will stay and keep you company. No one should have to be alone. It’s not fun at all. And very lonely.” His smile widened. “We can eat ice cream. And stay up late talking about our hopes... and dreams... and feelings.”

Church groaned. “Fuck that. I’m not a chick. Go have fun with the others. If you leave now, you can still catch them.”

Caboose shook his head emphatically—his dark, curly hair flying everywhere. “Nope. I’m staying right here. With my bestest best friend in the whole galaxy.”

“Great. Wonderful.” Some vacation.

“Besides,” Caboose added, “I wouldn’t have any fun if you weren’t there.”

Why did he have to go and say that? “Fuck me,” Church muttered. He scanned the crowd near the open hatch of the ship until he spotted a guy holding a sign that said, “Earth or Bust.” He was blond, looked about twenty and was dressed in a gray t-shirt and plaid shorts. Ugh. He was a total geek, but he’d do.

Church shed his robot body and shook out his imaginary limbs. 

“Church! You’re all glowy.”

“All right, Caboose, let’s go have some fun.”

“Yay!”


	2. Chapter 2

It had been a long time since Church possessed a live person with their required breathing and uncoordinated appendages. He immediately lost his balance and fell into a very well endowed woman standing next to him. Unfortunately, his hands landed on those endowments.

“Hey,” she squealed, getting the attention of her hulking giant of a boyfriend.

Before Church could attempt an apology, a fist was in his face, knocking him flat on his ass. 

“Son of a bitch,” he yelled, grabbing his nose.

“Next time, keep your hands to yourself, asshole.” The brute gave him a kick in the side for good measure before the couple stomped off.

Caboose came running over. “Church? Church is that you?”

Church groaned and staggered to his feet. “Yeah, it’s me.” He carefully pulled his hands from his face, expecting a gush of blood, but there was only a trickle from one side. He wiped it away with the back of his hand then squeezed the bridge of his sore nose. Nothing felt broken at least. He had forgotten what this kind of pain felt like.

“Are you okay, Church?”

He finally noticed the worried expression on his friend’s way-too-young-to-be-caught-up-in-this-crap face for the first time. He sniffed until his nose cleared some then patted Caboose’s shoulder. “Yeah, I’m fine. This guy’s going to have some serious shiners in the morning, though. Come on, let’s go find the others.”

That should have been their second warning. Taking over people’s bodies against their will sent a lot of bad juju out into the universe, and Karma is a ruthless, hard-ass bitch. Not unlike Tex. And Tex always had a way of tearing Church apart.

Church and Caboose headed in the direction the others had disappeared. He had no idea where they were going, but he could hear the ding of slot machines and the ruckus of drunken voices ahead of them. This had to be the right way.

Caboose kept sneaking side-glances at Church, turning quickly away whenever Church caught him. “What?” Church finally asked after the fifth or sixth time.

“I like your hair. It’s yellow like Grif.”

“Grif is orange.”

Caboose ignored him. “And it looks really soft. Can I touch it?”

“What? No. Get away from me.” He smacked Caboose’s outstretched hand before it could get near his head.

Caboose cradled his injured hand, lower lip out in a pout. Goddamn him. “Fine, but if you start petting me, I’m tossing you in the lake, and I know you can’t swim without floaties.”

“Okay.” His friend broke out in a face-splitting smile that warmed Church’s heart although he’d never admit to that even under torture.

He waited for Caboose to get the touchy-feely out of his system and only sighed when the touching turned to petting. He let him go for a few agonizing seconds before pushing away Caboose’s hand. “Better?”

“It’s really soft like I thought. Mine’s all shaggy and clumpy.”

Church watched Caboose shake out his hair like a wet dog. It was sweaty from his helmet and stuck to the sides of his face, falling over his ears and sticking up in the back. “We should probably get you a haircut while we’re here.”

Caboose clapped. “Oh yes, please. Last time Agent Carolina cut my hair she nicked my ear like seven times.” He leaned over and stage-whispered from behind his hand. “She’s not very good at cutting hair.” His face scrunched up for a second. “Don’t tell her I said that.”

Church bit back a laugh. Then bit his lip as he tripped again. Caboose kept him from faceplanting into the pavement. “This guy really needs to get some shoes that fit. And gain some weight. I feel like I weigh a hundred pounds.”

Caboose suddenly lifted him into the air, nearly squeezing the air out of him. “Nope. One fifty-two.” He set Church back down. “And six ounces.”

Church straightened his shirt. “How can you possibly know that?”

“It’s a gift.” Caboose had a satisfied little smirk on his face that made Church smile and not question him further.

“Caboose! Hey, Caboose!” someone yelled from the crowd. They turned to see Tucker jogging over. “There you are. What have I told you about wandering off?”

“To not do it?”

“And?”

“And if I get lost to find a hot mom and wait for you to come find me.”

Church snorted, getting Tucker’s attention.

“Who’s your new friend? You find a replacement for Church already?”

“Hey!” Church scowled at his other teammate. “Fuck you. I’m irreplaceable.”

Tucker coughed. “Oh, hey Church. You decided to quit being a loser and join us. I knew you could do it.”

“Whatever.”

“Come on, we’re all over here.”

Church stopped short in front of the old-fashioned pub Tucker pointed out. “O’Malley’s? You’re kidding, right? Are we purposefully tempting Fate now?”

Tucker gave him a shove toward the door. “Quit being a fucking baby—it’s just a bar.” He led them through the maze of seating, but they were stopped short of their table by a server in a gray apron.

“Sorry, no one under twenty-one in the bar area.”

“Seriously?” Church said. “We’re like a million miles away from Earth—on the other side of the freaking galaxy—and they still have that stupid rule?”

“Hey, Caboose, how old are you?” asked Tucker.

“Oh, I’m um- Well there’s a two and then you carry the one-” He scrunched his face in concentration.

“Geeze, don’t hurt yourself there. Don’t you have your military ID or something?”

Caboose patted himself down. “Oh, no! I left it in my other armor!” He looked legitimately upset.

“Come on, dude,” Tucker pleaded. “I vouch for him.” The server didn’t look swayed in the least so Tucker changed tactics. “I mean, look at him. Does it look like he’s going to be sneaking beers? Hell, he won’t even drink root beer because he says it makes him feel fuzzy.”

“It’s the bubbles,” Caboose said without an ounce of embarrassment.

The server rolled his eyes and sighed. “Fine, whatever. Just keep him out of trouble.”

“All right, man. Let’s go.”

Church made to follow his friends, but the server blocked his way again. “ID.”

“Oh, come on.” He could see Tucker laughing by the bar. “Fucker,” he muttered, patting down his own pockets until he found a wallet in one of the side pockets of his shorts. He pulled out a driver’s license and prayed the guy was over twenty-one. “Twenty-two. Ha!”

The server waved him through with a dirty look. The whole table was laughing at him when he sat down.

“Such a baby-face, Church,” Carolina said, pinching his cheek

Church smacked her hand away. “Screw you guys.”

That got everyone laughing again. Church slid down in his seat and sulked, but he wasn’t really that mad. It felt nice to let loose with his friends for once. Grif was right about them needing some downtime.


	3. Chapter 3

The third warning probably should have been the fact that Church’s new body couldn’t hold its liquor. But Church was having too much fun to notice any ominous signs. It’d been a long time since he’d tasted food or felt the loosening effects of alcohol. He hadn’t realized how much he missed it until he was stuffing his face with nachos and staring lazily across the table at Carolina as they both knocked back their third shot of whiskey.

Carolina causally flipped her glass and set it on top of the other two. Church slammed his down, lost his balance, and nearly fell out of his chair. He was too drunk to care that his friends were laughing at him again.

Wash managed to set him back in his seat without injury. “I’d watch it, Church. Carolina has drank every Freelancer under the table at one time or another. Even Maine.”

“I don’t like to lose.”

Church hiccuped. “I can take her,” he slurred.

Wash patted his back. “Sure you can, buddy.”

When it was clear Church was no match for Carolina’s steel stomach, she challenged the entire Red team—all of their shots combined against hers.

Donut opted out since he only drank fruity daiquiris with frilly little umbrellas in them. Which surprised no one. Simmons backed out, too, until Sarge called him a sissy and threatened to court-martial him if he didn’t defend the Red honor.

“But, Sarge,” he murmured, “you know how I get when I drink.”

“You mean all weepy and clingy?” said Grif. “Yeah, we know. You’re a sappy drunk which is the worst kind of drunk. I’d take a stupid drunk or a mean drunk over you any day.”

“Screw you, Grif.” Simmons grabbed one of the shots from the table, swallowing it with a grimace. “There,” he said, slamming it down.

“That’s a good little soldier,” Sarge said. “I appreciate your dedication to the cause, Private.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Carolina took her shot with a sly grin, and the game was on.

Simmons put up a valiant effort—matching Church’s three shots before he dashed for the restroom, Donut on his heels because someone had to hold back his hair. No one bothered mentioning Simmons had a regulation buzz cut.

Twenty minutes later, Grif flipped his fifth glass with a groan. “I’m done. I’m out. It’s all up to you now, Sarge. Make Red team proud. Do it for justice and honor and the American way or some shit.”

“Just you and me, darlin’. Mano y womano. Show me what you got, you dirty Blue.” Carolina only grinned and poured another glass.

Sarge was on his seventh shot when Simmons returned looking a little green. That made this the eighteenth for Carolina, including the three she shared with Church. She started to list to the side.

“I think maybe you’ve had enough,” Wash said, blocking her from drinking the next shot.

Her eyes narrowed. “Move your hand, Agent Washington if you want to keep it attached to your arm.”

Wash slowly pulled away before she could bite off any fingers. “Okay, but remember what happened with Maine.”

She gave him another withering glare then downed the shot. Her pyramid of glasses was listing almost as much as her. And the last one was the limit. The whole thing toppled, sending glasses rolling everywhere.

Carolina cackled as everyone scrambled to catch them before they could fall and break.

Sarge poured two more shots despite Wash’s disapproving frown. Church might have worried more if he could figure out which of the two Carolinas across the table was the real one.

“You ready to concede the battle yet, little lady?”

“Never.”

Wash laid his head down on the table with a groan while Tucker egged on Carolina and Grif massaged Sarge’s shoulders like a prizefighter. Everything was over a round later, though, after Carolina spilled her first glass and struggled to find her mouth with the second. Wash snatched the glass and nearly empty bottle of whiskey.

“I’m calling it,” he said. “Twenty is your limit.” Then he tossed back what hadn’t sloshed out of her glass.

“Ha! Suck it, Blue,” Simmons shouted with a loud belch.

Grif started dancing around like he just scored a touchdown in the Super Bowl while exchanging rude gestures with Tucker the entire time. 

Sarge leaned back in his chair. “You’re a worthy opponent, Agent Carolina. I tip my hat to you.” He reached up to an imaginary hat and then fell back, crashing into Grif who scrambled to stop his own fall, only managing to snag Simmons shirt, pulling him down with them. The table erupted in howls of laughter again, getting dirty looks from the other pub patrons.

Church smiled at them all. They were complete idiots. But they were his idiots

Oh, and he may or may not have inadvertently stretched out his legs and accidentally tapped Sarge’s chair before he fell. And by accidentally, I mean completely, totally, unabashedly on purpose. Suck it, Red.

Getting kicked out of the bar should have been another obvious sign that the day was heading downhill, but they were all far too drunk to realize it at the time.

The group stumbled out, talking and laughing over each other. Grif and Simmons had their arms around each other’s necks, crooning some unknown tune. Actually, Church was pretty sure they were singing two completely different songs. Donut was helping Sarge along while Wash hovered near Carolina—close enough to catch her if she fell but out of stabbing distance.

Doc fluttered between them, trying to convince everyone to head to the coffee house down the street to sober up. They rarely listened to Doc.

Church, Tucker, and Caboose trailed behind, a little more subdued.

“I’m really glad you came,” Tucker said

“Me, too.” Church hiccuped. “I haven’t had this much fun in a long time. I’m not sure I’ve ever had this much fun in my existence.” He frowned at the dark thoughts bubbling up.

Tucker smacked his chest. “Hey, no getting existential. We’re here to have fun, not contemplate our place in the universe.”

“I contemplated my place in the universe once,” said Caboose. “Yeah, I got lost and had to ask the Man in the Moon for directions.”

Church exchanged an amused look with Tucker.

“And then I asked him if he had any cheese on account of the Moon being made out of cheese, but he only had the green kind and green food is bad. That’s what Agent Washington said when I ate the green ham and threw up all the eggs.”

Church couldn’t contain himself anymore. He doubled over in a fit of giggles. Tucker laughed at them both.

“Oh! My! God!” squealed Caboose.

The two sobered up quick at Caboose’s scream. Church went for his gun, feeling completely exposed when his fingers closed around air. He could tell Tucker felt it, too, when he didn’t find his sword at his side.

“What? What is it?” Tucker asked, eyes darting everywhere, looking for danger.

“Look! They have a roller coaster!”

Church let out a breath, shoulders relaxing some. Until Caboose started shaking him violently. “Can we go on it, Church? Please, Church. Pretty please? Can we, Church? Pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease. Church, pleeeeease!”

Church shoved him off. “Okay, okay, we’ll go on the freaking roller coaster. Just get off me.” His stomach flipped at the thought though, and he hoped this body didn’t get motion sickness.

Caboose jumped and clapped, rambling on about how much he loved roller coasters.

“I gotta use the can, first,” Church blurted. “Tucker, go tell the others where we’re going.”

Tucker flipped him off. “We’re on vacation. You can’t order me around anymore.” But he headed off in the direction of their friends—a stupid smile on his face.

It took Church a couple minutes to find a public toilet. A large shadow loomed over his shoulder as he headed towards it. “Caboose,” he said, turning around. “Where are you going?”

“To the bathroom. With you.”

“Do you even need to use the bathroom?” Caboose shook his head. “Then go with Tucker. I don’t need an audience when I piss.”

“But you told Tucker to find the others. You didn’t tell me what to do so-”

Church scrubbed his face. “Okay. That was my mistake. Caboose, are you listening?”

“Yes, Church.”

“Okay. I want you to go back with Tucker, and I’ll meet you there, all right?”

Caboose nodded. “Okay.”

Church’s stomach twisted as he watched the big oaf trot off into the crowd. That could have been another sign of the bad things to come—that overwhelming and unexpected press of anxiety. Or it could totally be the three shots, two beers, and basket of nachos coming back up. Either way, it wasn’t good.


	4. Chapter 4

It seemed like forever before Church got the vomiting under control. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand then gulped water right from the tap, swishing it around his mouth before spitting it out. What he wouldn’t give for a toothbrush right now.

He’d forgotten about this side of having fun. He found that kind of ironic—what with being made of pure memory. He didn’t dwell on it. He did consider ditching this body for someone less pukey, but after splashing water on his face, he felt better. And switching would just confuse Caboose.

Church hurried back to where he last saw the gang—near an ice cream stand where Grif had been trying to convince Simmons that mixing all ten flavors was a sure cure for a hangover—but when he got there, the shop had closed. Fuck.

He scanned the mass of people, looking for a mop of black hair bobbing above the others. Or a glimpse of the turquoise sundress Carolina was wearing that was giving Church very confusing and uncomfortable feelings. He saw only strangers.

“Great,” he muttered. “They ditched me.”

He rubbed his face, wincing at his sore nose. This poor bastard was going to wake up to one hell of a hangover in the morning. Instinctively, Church reached for his radio toggle before remembering a second later he wasn’t wearing his armor. He wasn’t even wearing his own skin. Now what? Caboose would never voluntarily leave without him, so he figured they went on ahead when he took too long.

He located the looming beast towering over the other buildings—the sounds of delighted screams drifting on the wind like a dream. His stomach twisted again, but he ignored it. How many battles had he been in now? How many near-deaths? How many horrible tortures had he endured? 

“Too fucking many,” he mumbled, getting a nasty look from a mother dragging a little girl behind her. The girl had red pigtails and green eyes. They were the wrong shade, but for a second he was back on Earth—a tiny girl by his side.

“ _Look at my dress, Daddy. It floats.”_

Church shook his head as the spinning girl in his memories morphed into the one in front of him who was currently sticking out her tongue. He resisted the urge to flip the kid off.

“Sorry,” he mumbled to the lady then sprinted away because she had that look like she was about to lay into him. Carolina gave him that look a lot—it never ended well.

His heart didn’t settle for three whole blocks. What the hell was that? It sure wasn’t _his_ memory. Or Alpha’s. But he knew, deep down, it was still him—Leonard Church. They were all essentially the same person at their core. Just their experiences sent them on different paths.

Church swallowed the lump in his throat and wiped the dampness from his cheeks. Fuck, he was never drinking again.

“Cody! Hey, Cody, wait up. Cody!” Someone grabbed Church’s arm, spinning him around. “I knew it was you?” the petite brunette said, hugging him. “It’s been forever. How have you been?”

“Uh-” Church blinked at the girl. It took him a second to match the name she called him to the one on the ID in his wallet. Cody Lawson. Age twenty-two. From Portland, Oregon. Wonder what he was doing so far from home? He cleared his throat when he realized she was waiting for some kind of response. “Um, okay, I guess?”

She slapped his arm. Hard. “That’s all you have to say? Okay, you guess? What happened to your grand plan to see the galaxy one planet at a time?”

“Well, um. I-” Was he always this awkward talking to girls? Tex would say yes. He shoved the thought of Tex way back in his brain where he kept the shit he wasn’t ready to deal with yet. The girl was still waiting for a real answer. The best lies are the ones rooted in truth. Someone had told him that once—probably Tex. He took a deep breath. “Well, see, there’s this war. And it’s pretty much everywhere, and one thing led to another. And I got drafted.” He shrugged.

Horror replaced the curiosity on her face. “Oh, Cody, no! You’re a pacifist. Can’t you like conscientiously object or something? Protest?”

Figures the guy in plaid shorts would be a pussy. But then he thought of Doc, and as annoying and often useless as the guy was, he held his own in battle. With or without O’Malley riding shotgun. “See, I figure,” Church told her, “I go into the medical corps. Couple years training to be a medic and then I’ll be saving people instead of shooting them.” He felt really proud of that whopper until the girl gasped.

“But you didn’t even finish high school. You said you were dropping out because you couldn’t read. I think you need to know how to read to be a medic.”

For crying out loud. He was so done with this conversation. Thankfully, he saw a flash of aqua and red hair in the distance. Finally. He shrugged at the girl. “Eh, I hear they take anyone now—they’re kind of desperate. Gotta go.” He didn’t wait for her to respond before taking off.

“Where the hell have you been?” Carolina yelled. Church was amazed at how clear her speech was when he was still fighting his tongue every other word.

“Nice to see you, too, sis.”

That softened the anger storming in her eyes. She took a deep breath, letting it out in a puff that ruffled her bangs. “Did I mention I’m a mean drunk?”

“The meanest,” Wash agreed, coming up behind her with a steaming cup of coffee. “This one time, her and Maine-”

Carolina slapped her hand over his mouth. “We agreed we’d never speak of that again.”

Wash winked at Church and mouthed, “I’ll tell you later.”

Church smiled. Damn, his face hurt from all of the smiling he’d done today. And it felt pretty fucking good. Seeing Carolina and Wash happy after everything they’d been through—even if it was for this brief moment—was worth compromising his dicey morals. He knew he was the cause of most of their pain. In one way or another. Wash more personally. His smile faltered. Another thought to keep Tex company in the back of his mind. Eventually, he would have to take stock and clear the skeletons in his closet. But not today. Today, he was on vacation.

“Where is everybody?” Church asked before he was swallowed by his dark thoughts.

“Don’t know. We turned around a second and they were gone,” Carolina said.

“And by ‘turn around,’ she means puking in a trash can and getting a ticket for public intoxication.” 

Church snorted as Carolina punched Wash in the arm. He rubbed the spot with a goofy grin.

Carolina grabbed their arms, dragging them along. “Come on Tweedledee and Tweedledum, let’s go find the others. It’s getting dark and we should be heading back.”

“Yes, Mom,” Wash mumbled.

“Don’t make me smack you again.”

“Yeah, Tweedledum, leave her alone. She’s had a hard day of drinking and puking.”

“Reminds me of my college days. Brief as they were.”

Carolina glared at Church over her shoulder. “Don’t think I won’t deck you, too.”

Church laughed. “Oh, I know you would, Carolina.” He shot her a crooked grin, getting an eye roll in return. It was weird seeing everyone without their armor. Faces expressed so much emotion that was normally lost behind a visor. He wondered how often Carolina rolled her eyes at him.

“Now wait a minute,” Wash said. “I am most definitely Tweedledee. You’re Tweedledum.”

“What? No way. I’m not being Tweedledum. He’s, well, the dumb one.”

A grin slid across Wash’s face. “Too bad. I call dibs.”

“You can’t call dibs on a name.”

“Can.”

“Not.”

“Carolina?”

She let out an exasperated sigh—the kind Church’s mother gave him when he was little and on her last nerve. “They’re both idiots so the names could go either way.”

“See,” Church said, but was cut off by Carolina.

“But, Tweedledee did call dibs. Sorry, Dummy.”

“You both suck,” Church grumbled while Carolina and Wash laughed at him. There was nothing but affection behind his words, though.

They finally arrived at the line for the roller coaster. The front half was full of queued people. The end was occupied by only three red soldiers.

“Lift those legs, maggots. Double time!”

“But, Sarge,” Grif whined as he jogged through the winding fences. “I’m on vacation.”

Simmons was a few turns farther along, cursing under his breath.

“Preparedness takes no vacations, Private. What would you do if we were suddenly attacked by unseen alien forces?”

“Honestly, sir,” Grif said through gasps, “I’d just bow down to my new alien overlords. They probably treat their army better than this.”

Sarge smacked Grif with a stick he was carrying like a shotgun. “Nonsense. You will lay down your life in the line of fire protecting your commanding officer. As it says in my report, er, will say. Now drop and give me twenty.”

The three of them gave Sarge a wide berth. Church was pretty sure Grif was crying. He hopped over the barrier to join Simmons as he walked back and forth along the path. “You okay?”

Simmons held his side and sucked in gulping breaths. “That man is deranged. He’s going to kill us. Kill Grif.”

They glanced over their shoulders. Wash patted Simmons’ shoulder. “I think I’ll go rescue him. I really don’t want to drag an unconscious Grif back to the ship. Save me a spot in line.”

Simmons moaned. “I am not going on that thing. I don’t care what Sarge does. I’ll take the court-martial. I don’t give a fuck. I’m done.” He slid under the fence and trudged to the nearest bench where he collapsed.

“Wow,” Church said. “Looks like Red team is falling apart.”

“It’s a nice change of pace,” Carolina said with a nod. The two of them continued to zig-zag along the path. Church smiled when Carolina started singing along with the song playing over the speakers lining the path. God, she was awful.

As they caught up with the tail end of the line, Church caught sight of a pink oxford shirt and ugly purple hoodie. “Hey, there’s the others,” he said with a sigh. “Finally.”

They annoyed quite a few people in line as they pushed through and hopped the fences to get to their friends. Doc and Donut waved, each holding an ice cream cone.

“Where the fu-” Tucker uncharacteristically stumbled over his words. He eyed a little old lady standing nearby and cleared his throat. “Heck. Where the heck have you been?”

“Long story,” Church said, absently. He counted the people with Tucker and came up one short. Church looked around. “Where’s Caboose?”

Tucker frowned. “I don’t know. I thought he was with you.”

Church’s real human heart stopped. His lungs refused to work. Shit. Shit. Shit. How could he let this happen? Caboose depended on him to keep him safe. And he failed.

Again.

Later, they’d go over the day, detail by detail, looking for those missed signs. Beating themselves up for not paying better attention. For not keeping a closer eye on Caboose. It will be one of those lessons they learned the hard way. Which, let’s face it, has been the majority of their lessons so far.


	5. Chapter 5

“What’s with all the sourpusses?” Sarge asked as the Reds joined Church and the others. “This is supposed to be the Happiest Place in the Galaxy.”

“That’s Disneyland, sir.”

“Oh, right.”

Tucker sighed. “Caboose is missing.”

“Again?” said Grif. “We need a leash for that guy.”

Simmons shot his friend a look. “Grif, that’s not-”

“Or Lojack.”

“We already installed that,” Tucker said. “In his armor.”

Sarge scoffed. “Well, that ain’t much help now. Maybe we could put one of those trackin’ chip things in him? Like you do a dog.”

“Yeah, that’d work,” Grif agreed.

“Guys,” Doc interrupted, “That’s not really nice.”

Simmons put an end to the discussion with a sigh. “We should split up and look for him. We’ll cover more ground that way.”

Wash nodded. “Good idea. You and Grif head west. Doc, Donut, and Sarge take the east. Carolina and I will head north towards the port. Church, you and Tucker cover the fair around the coaster. Everyone got it?”

“I swear to god if you say, ‘sync,’ I will slap you,” Tucker said before walking away.

Church followed him, shoving a hand through his hair. His very yellow, soft hair. Except his hair was supposed to be dark and his eyes were green not like Cody’s. They were blue. He shook away the distracting thoughts. Focus, Church. Quit thinking about unimportant shit.

“Dude, would you chill out.”

“Caboose is missing, Tucker. This is a big place. He could be anywhere. Lost or hurt.”

“Are you even listening to yourself? He’s a grown man, Church, not a little kid. And I’ve fought enough battles with him to know he’s pretty goddamn lethal when he needs to be. He’s not helpless.”

Church rubbed his face. “I know, I know. I just-”

Why _was_ he freaking out? Tucker was right. As amazing as it seemed sometimes, Caboose was an adult that made it this far on his own. Mostly. And he always managed to come out the other side unscathed when the rest of them were battered and scarred. Well, unscathed physically. Mentally was another story, and Church had let him down too many times in the past.

But Church couldn’t help the cold grip of anxiety squeezing his chest or the icy panic filling his veins. He couldn’t pinpoint the reason until he ran right into that same mom with the pig-tailed girl. Suddenly, he was somewhere else.

“ _Look at my dress, Daddy. It floats.” A little hand slips from his as his phone rings. He’s been waiting for this call from Carlton. It’s important—funding for his research._

“ _Daddy, look.”_

“ _Okay, that’s great sweetheart.”_

“ _Daddy, you’re not looking.”_

_He sighs. “Just hold on a second then I’ll watch.”_

_But the call lasts minutes and when he looks up, she’s gone. The panic is instant and overwhelming._

_“Sarah? Sarah!”_

Someone slapped him. “Church, wake the fuck up.”

He touched his stinging cheek, still caught somewhere between here and the past of a man long dead inside.

“Who’s Sarah?”

“Huh?” The fog started to clear as he focused on Tucker’s voice.

“You just kind of zoned out. I thought you might have left your body, but then you were yelling for someone named Sarah.”

“Oh. Huh, that’s weird. We need to keep looking.” The words came out in a rush, and he avoided looking at Tucker. He was sure something on his face would give it away.

“Come on. Who’s Sarah? Old girlfriend or something?”

“She’s nobody. Just drop it. Now, will you concentrate?”

Thankfully, Tucker didn’t bring it up again. He was actually quiet for a whole ten minutes before the bitching started. “This is pointless, Church. He could be anywhere. Let’s go back to the ship and wait there. Where there’s a bed and leftover pizza. He’ll show up eventually.”

Church was going to throttle Tucker. “You told him to stay put if he got lost.” Church’s anxiety and confusion were boiling over, and he couldn’t take any more of Tucker’s shit. “What is wrong with you anyway? Caboose is our teammate. Our friend. And you’re acting like it’s no big deal that he’s missing. Do you care at all?”

“You’re the one acting crazy. Since when do you even care this much? You’ve tried to kill him in the past.”

Church growled, ignoring Tucker’s low blow. “If it’s really that much trouble, Tucker—if there’s really more important things you’d rather be doing—then go. Get out of here. Go have fun and leave the worrying to me.” Church stomped off, no longer giving a fuck if Tucker followed. He didn’t have time to deal with his whining like a brat.

Tucker didn’t leave, though. He caught up with Church, head down. “I’ll take the other side of the food court,” he mumbled. “You know how he likes cotton candy and balloon animals.”

“Okay.” Church nodded, but Tucker was already gone, and he almost found some regret for yelling at him. But his mind was too busy straddling two realities and not falling into the chasm between to feel guilty.

A few minutes later, Tucker rejoined him, shaking his head. “Nothing. It’s like he just vanished.”

“He has to be somewhere. He’s too big to kidnap.”

“Who needs to snatch him? Just offer him some candy or a puppy or something and he’d call them his new best friend.”

Church glared at him. “Just keep looking,” he grumbled. They continued towards the entrance to the ride, checking souvenir stalls and behind trees. The ache in Church’s chest got a little worse every minute that passed.

“ _Daddy, look at my dress.”_

“ _Sarah? Sarah!”_

“I do care,” Tucker said softly, breaking Church from the memories. “Maybe I don’t show it by flipping out whenever he’s out of sight for more than a minute, but I care. I am worried. Fuck, this is all my fault. I should have been watching him. I thought he was behind me, but-” He sucked in a raspy breath. “I’m sorry.”

Shit. Church couldn’t remember ever seeing Tucker break down. He cleared his throat. “It’s not your fault, Tucker. He followed me, and I told him I’d meet him at the ride. I’m the leader—it’s my job to make sure everyone is safe.” He sighed heavily. “And I failed. Again.”

Tucker didn’t say anything because there was no excuse or explanation Church would accept. In the end, he was the one responsible for everyone on the team. How did he even get here? He wasn’t made for this kind of thing. He was a complete fuck up. As a leader and a friend. If anything happened to Caboose. Church tore at his hair, wishing he could rip out every last strand, but he didn’t own this body and Cody might be a little pissed to wake up hungover as fuck _and_ bald.

It was about this time that they finally noticed a sign. A warning. The last one—when it was already too late to really do anything about it. It was an impotence Church will dwell on for a long time after.

His name floated to him on the back of cherry blossoms. “Church! Church over here. Church, look at me! Churchchurchchurch,” the wind whispered. He stumbled to a stop, searching for the source of the voice, but he was already slipping from this reality into the ghost of his past.

“ _Daddy, look at my dress. It floats. Daddy, you’re not looking. Daddy?”_

“Church?” Tucker said, sounding concerned. “You okay?”

He blinked, and it was gone. “Yeah, huh, I’m good. Sorry, thought I heard something.”

“What?”

“I don’t know. Something.”

Tucker sighed. “Don’t get pissed and fly off the handle or anything, but this is useless. Maybe we should check lost and found.”

“Shh.” He strained to hear, finally finding it again—the barest of whispers. “Church! Church!”

“Do you hear-”

“Yeah,” Tucker said. “But where’s it coming from?”

“Church!, Church, look at me!”

Church spun, but all he saw were people, people, and more people. None of them a six-foot-five idiot in a blue shirt because he wouldn’t wear any other color. “Goddamn it.”

Simmons and Grif trudged around the corner. “Any luck?” Simmons asked.

“Shh, listen.”

Church knew he wasn’t imagining this. He wasn’t losing it—at least, not any more than he was yesterday. They all heard it. He was the only one hearing multiple voices, though.

“Church! Church, over here. Look at me!”

_“Daddy, you’re not looking.”_

Church shook the image of the little girl from his head. He didn’t have time for this crap—for his memories to start to unravel. Only Tucker seemed to notice his brief slip from reality.

It was ultimately the gasp of the crowd that alerted them of the inevitable outcome of all the warnings they missed—gave them just enough time for their hearts to stop. To realize their mistakes.

The crowd moved as one, and Church knew. He just knew it was bad. He ran, pushing through the throngs of murmuring people, not stopping to apologize when he knocked someone over. He could hear Tucker behind him, and farther back, Simmons apologizing in their wake.

“Church!” The voice was stronger now. Clearer. Where? “Church, look up here!”

He finally noticed the upturned faces and followed their horrified stares. And his heart—Cody’s heart—goddamned stopped. No.

“Oh, god,” Simmons murmured next to him.

“What is he doing?” asked Grif.

The rest of the group eventually joined them watching the train of the antique roller coaster make its slow and final ascent. And there, at the top, in a bright blue shirt, one idiot waving frantically for their attention.

“Church, look at me.”

Church could just hear the faint sound of his friend’s carefree voice over the _click, click, click_ of the ride. Church shook his head. This couldn’t be happening. He needed to do something, but he was frozen by the horror of it all.

“No, you big blue idiot. Your arms and legs are supposed to stay inside of the ride at all times. Standin’s even worse. If it were Grif, I’d be cheering you on-”

“Sarge!” Simmons uncharacteristically shouted at his CO. “Not now.”

Church was only remotely aware of their bickering—it was all the Reds ever did so it was easy to tune out. It helped that the rush of blood in his head nearly drowned out every sound.

The crowd held their collective breaths as Caboose’s car teetered at the pinnacle—half already over; its momentum pulling the rest behind it.

“Can’t they stop the ride?” someone asked.

“No. It’s too late.”

Time slowed down for Church. He wasn’t sure if he was doing it on purpose like when he helped run Carolina’s equipment or if it was just a trick of relativity, but Caboose seemed to hold at the top forever. If ever there was a moment to be trapped in forever, this would be the worst. A nightmare. God, anything else, please.

“ _Sarah? Sarah!”_

And then everything was moving again—like a wound spring snapping. The train jolted forward over the edge of the hill. Caboose’s gleeful shouts gave way to the terrified screams of those watching.

“Caboose! No!”

“Oh god, oh god, oh god.” He couldn’t tell if Simmons was praying or stuck on repeat.

“Fuck me,” Tucker muttered from his other side.

“No,” whispered Wash behind him.

Church’s eyes stung with tears. “Sarah,” he whispered—the words falling from his lips without thought. “I’m sorry.” Quickly he wiped away the tears, but he didn’t miss the look Carolina gave him before looking away. So much failure in his life. Too much.


	6. Chapter 6

People started running. Tourists and medics, security and sicko gawkers all rushing for a better view of the aftermath. Church moved, too—elbowing and forcing his way between couples and families.

“ _Look at me, Church! Up here!”_ The words bounced around his head followed by those memories that would always haunt him.

“ _Daddy, look at my dress. It floats. Daddy, you’re not looking.”_

_He finds her after the longest most terrifying fifteen minutes of any of his lives because, for all of his faults and all the pain he_ _’s caused, Dr. Leonard Church loves his daughter. Church feels it deep in his bones. He screams her name—not just the Director, but Alpha and Epsilon and every other goddamn voice in his head. They all scream the same thing. “Sarah! Sarah, where are you?”_

But the name that came out of Church’s mouth was something else. “Caboose! Caboose!” They made it to the fence surrounding the ride. Medics were everywhere, sirens wailing closer and closer. Security pushed onlookers back. Church was stuck.

“That’s my friend,” he shouted at the nearest guard who only shrugged. If he had a gun, he’d blow the guy’s head off. Well, maybe Church wouldn’t, but Wash or Carolina could take the shot.

Tucker and Wash, Carolina and the Reds suddenly surrounded him, each in various stages of shock. Even Wash, after everything he’d seen and done, appeared lost and overwhelmed. From the haunted look in his eyes, Church knew heard Epsilons ghosts—his ghosts—screaming inside his head, too.

“They won’t let us through,” Church said. Hands shaking, he barely even noticed Carolina reaching over to stop them—her touch gentle. Almost understanding. Did she remember?

“What do we do?” asked Tucker, sounding calm but worried.

Doc suddenly pushed to the front of the group. “Let me go. I’m a medic—they’ll let me through.”

And they did.

Church watched Doc slip past security, but his patience was used up. “Fuck this.” He reached out for the familiar feel of Doc’s mind. O’Malley had made a cozy nest there that glowed like a fucking Christmas tree to Church. He stayed only long enough to find another body nearby.

“Whoa,” Doc mumbled, staggering into the woman next to him.

She righted him. “Sorry,” Church said, his voice sounding weird. He’d never jumped into a female body before. “I needed a point of reference.”

“I understand.” He didn’t sound so sure, though. Church hated to do that to him. Omega was a bastard that really did a number on the mild-mannered medic. Even the few seconds in his brain showed that—it was almost as big a mess as Church’s, and apparently O’Malley left a piece of himself behind.

Doc muttered curses to himself when a group of bystanders blocked his path. Before Church could do anything, Doc twitched, turning into someone else. “Get out of my way, you imbeciles. Move. I’m a medic. Scat. Scamper. Yes, you in the ugly sweater get out of my way.”

Church didn’t know if he should laugh or feel guilty. At the moment, he was just grateful Omega turned out to be good for something. He clung to Doc, traveling in his wake as people parted like the Red Sea.

“Hey,” a guard yelled, stopping them. “You can’t be over here!”

“Out of my way, fool, or I’ll rip your skull out and beat you to death with it.”

“What?” The guard looked more confused than afraid. They really needed to get some new material.

“I’m a medic,” Doc said in his usual, squeaky voice. “The guy- the man that fell-” His voice cracked, but he pulled himself together. “He’s a friend of mine. His name’s Caboose, and I really, really-” O’Malley returned with an evil twist of his lips. “-need to get to him. Now bloody move out of my way.”

The guard backed away, leaving a space for them to pass. “Yes, yes, finally, you idiot. Move. Move. This is my assistant, let her through. Move!”

People scattered. Doc grabbed Church’s wrist and dragged him through. “Yes, thank you, good man,” O’Malley said to a guard that waved them over, followed by Doc’s hollered, “and have a nice day!”

Doc shook himself out. “God, I hate when that happens.”

“Sorry,” Church mumbled. “Omega was always the hothead of the family. But I’m kind of glad right now. Thank you for getting us through.”

Doc blinked at him. “He’s my friend, too, Church.”

They both stumbled to a stop a few feet from a body covered in a sheet.

“No.”

Church wasn’t sure which one of them said it or if it even mattered. They both sighed in relief as the sheet suddenly lifted and fell. Church hurried over, dropping to his knees next to Caboose’s head. He was still. Too still for Caboose who always fidgeted. But he was breathing.

“Caboose?” Doc said. “Caboose, can you hear me?”

“No, mama, I don’t wanna shuck the corn today.”

“Caboose,” Church said in his way-too-feminine voice. “Caboose, open your eyes.”

Doc concentrated on his scanner, mumbling to himself.

“Come on, Caboose. I’ve gone through too much shit to lose you now. I mean, I might get too used to not dying every goddamn month if you aren’t there to blow me up or shoot me in the head, but-” He couldn’t help the quiver in his voice.

Caboose’s lips moved. Church bent closer, and his friend’s mouth—corner caked in blood—turned up into a grin. “Tucker did it,” he rasped, and fuck it, Church was crying again. “Church, is that you?” Caboose asked, a little louder.

“Yeah, buddy, it’s me.”

Caboose’s smile widened. “Church! You’re a girl!”

Church laughed in relief, the terror slowly bleeding away. “You’re going to be okay, buddy. Just hang on. Doc is here—he’s going to fix you up and then we’re gonna go home.”

“To Blood Gulch?”

“To wherever the fuck you wanna go, Caboose.”

Caboose blinked up at Church. “I want to be wherever you are, Church.”

Doc paused to wipe his eyes and steady himself. Church watched his own tears fall, soaking Caboose’s hair. He focused on that one thing because he wouldn’t, couldn’t look at the man’s broken body.

Church had lived a lot of lives, and of all of his experiences, this ranked as the second most terrifying. The first ended a lot better.

“ _Sarah! Sarah, where are you?” His throat is raw from yelling, and his lashes are tangled with tears, blurring the world around him. “Shit, shit, shit. Where is she? Sarah?”_

_A wrinkled hand lands on his shoulder._ _“Are you looking for a little girl ‘bout yea high,” the old woman asks with a reassuring smile. “Red hair and blue dress?”_

“ _Oh, god, yes. Have you seen her?”_

_The woman pats his arm._ _“She’s over there, spinnin’ for the ducks. Happy as a clam.”_

_He barely remembers to shout a thank you over his shoulder as he runs. He tops the hill, and sure enough, she_ _’s down by the pond chattering to the ducks. The breath he’s been holding for the last five minutes whooshes out in a gush._

_Of course, she would come here. This was their spot. Every time Allison came home, they raced to the pond to feed the ducks. All Sarah ever wanted to do was practice running so one of those times she_ _’d finally be faster than Mommy._

“ _Sarah!”_

“ _Daddy!” She waves high, oblivious to his distress. “Look at my dress, Daddy! Look how it floats!”_

Church blinked away fresh tears. He tried not to think about how they celebrated Sarah’s sixth birthday the next week. Or how she never got to race her mother to that pond again.

He pushed and shoved and crammed those memories into the closet with Tex and Wash and everything else he didn’t have the capacity to deal with at the moment. He’d sort them and his ghosts out another day. If there was one thing Church knew how to do, it was compartmentalize.

Caboose’s breathing shallowed out, and for an agonizing moment, the terror seized him again. But the sheet continued to rise and fall. Church swore the man was invincible.

“I think he’s going to be okay,” Doc said softly. “It won’t be pretty or easy, but he’ll make it.”

Church sighed. “Hear that, Caboose? Doc thinks you’re gonna be just fine.”

“But, Church,” Caboose murmured. “Doc is a horrible doctor. You said so.”

Doc shook his head as Church chuckled. “It’s okay, Caboose. I think he’s learned a few things since then.”

Caboose laughed, too, but it quickly turned to coughs.

“Try not to move, buddy. They’re bringing a helicopter to take you to the hospital. How cool is that?”

“Neat.” Caboose forced one eye open to look at Church. “Will you be there, Church? So I’m not scared?”

Caboose knew how to throw an emotional sucker punch to the gut. “Of course. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.” And damn it, he meant it more than anything he’d ever sworn to before. He’d fucked up too many lives in the past. It was time to start doing something right. “Now you need to promise me you’ll do everything the doctors say and rest and not move around. Okay? I need you to get better and come home soon. Who else is going to take care of Mr. Bubbles and Fishy McSwimsalot?”

Caboose’s eye fluttered shut, but the smile stayed. “I love you, Church. You’re my best friend.”

“I love you, too, buddy. Now rest and get better.”

They missed all the signs—things that meant nothing to the average person, but for the Reds and Blues spelled disaster on the horizon. Nothing good ever came from not wearing armor or stealing bodies or getting drunk. Next time, they’d pay better attention to the details.

**Author's Note:**

> I did originally have a rationale for Church being able to jump into regular people, but I lost my notes on it. Let's just say, Epsilon is super special and has learned a few tricks over the years. There is no time frame in canon that this fits with. I completely forgot about Sister (with much regret).


End file.
